Friday, December 26, 2014

I wish I could send a paper Christmas card to everyone I know, but sadly, resources are finite. In lieu of that, I'm celebrating the second day of this joyous season by posting our Christmas greetings here. This is the picture (courtesy of a dear life-long friend) that I put on our card this year, and the text of the letter I sent.

I can't believe it's December already! 2014 has been a wonderful year for our little family.

We rang in the new year with our families in our hometown, fun as always, then it was back to work and school as usual. We hunkered down through a record number of weather-related school closings last winter, as precipitation and frigid temperatures made it too difficult to venture out. Yikes! It was a stir-crazy time.

We broke up the monotony of January with a trip to northern Michigan for skiing. Blaise braved his first-ever ski lesson in the cold and then refused to go back out for the rest of the weekend. Camilla was a trooper, though, and enjoyed lots of time on the slopes with her grandpa, skiing with such abandon that she created a number of “thank goodness for helmets” moments for her parents. Blaise and I finished the month with a trip to DC to visit his godparents and our godson. He was so calm during the trip! I guess one-on-one time with parents is soothing for kids. Either that or he’s incredibly mollified by riding on airplanes.

During February, Bryan timed a week-long business trip perfectly: just before he left, Linus and Ambrose came down with pneumonia. Nothing a round of antibiotics couldn't fix, but the few days I spent trapped on the couch under the pair of two-year-olds made me super glad we'd done their tonsillectomy the year before and caused illness to be a rare thing. Thankfully, my mom showed up to help and we powered through.

In March, Bryan spent most of a week in Vail, Colorado, with his dad. An avid skier, he looks forward to this visit to the Rockies all year. He came home happy and rejuvenated, which he deserves very much considering how hard he works the rest of the time.

When April came, the world finally started to thaw and I think the general mood in our house lifted several notches with the degrees on the thermometer. Forty degrees felt balmy, and I was relieved to be able to let the kids play outside. That month was a big one for Camilla: at the beginning, she made her first reconciliation, and on Easter she received her first communion. It was a joyous occasion for our girl. It feels like just moments since she was a four-week-old getting baptized, so this was surreal, but lovely. Camilla was beaming on the day, and is thrilled to be able to receive communion at her school's daily Mass now.

At the beginning of May we had another joyous occasion: my sister Tirienne got married. I was a bridesmaid, Camilla a flower girl, and Ambrose and Linus ringbearers, although only one of them made it down the aisle. So much for a matched pair! Linus made up for bailing on his ringbearer duties by trying to escape and reach the bride (he adores Aunt Tirienne) during the wedding. Fortunately we headed him off.

I rounded out May with a weekend trip to meet up with friends in Atlanta. After struggling through our twins' infanthood, I feel lucky to be able to make these little escapes; I come back a happier and calmer version of myself and everyone's life is better.

June brought the end of the school year - an exciting time for children - followed quickly by Camilla's first ballet recital. She’s been enjoying her ballet lessons hugely, and we loved seeing her on stage for the first time. Hopefully it was just the first of many!

At the beginning of July, we ventured up north for a week in Harbor Springs with friends. Our kids are a great age for outings, and they loved the Independence Day fireworks.

During the summer, we survived a couple longish business trips for Bryan, and I flew away to a Catholic women's social conference for a rejuvenating weekend at the end of July.

As a whole, the summer was lovely: not too hot and not too full, the perfect balance of planned activities, trips to the park, and my sending the kids outside with popsicles and an order not to bother me unless someone was bleeding. Having exhausted grubby children at the end of a summer day signals victory to me, and I hope someday they remember these leisurely times with fondness.

At the end of August, Camilla was ready for third grade and Blaise excited for kindergarten. They transitioned happily into the school year. Camilla complains that homework cuts into her free time, but is in love with her brand-new teacher. And Blaise enjoys school more than any kid I've ever seen, asking every weekend how many days until he gets to go back. Ambrose and Linus, stuck with their mother all day, are less thrilled, and are usually asking by 9am when we get to go pick up their older siblings. But luckily they have each other for company, and they've settled into the new routine.

In September I got to spend a long weekend in Chicago with dear friends, and Bryan got another week-long business trip, aka "workation," along with a trip with Camilla to visit my sister in Minnesota. My brother in Alaska welcomed a new daughter that month, whom we look forward to meeting when she’s older.

In October, we took multiple trips to the apple orchard (mmmm, donuts) and made and devoured many batches of apple crisp and applesauce. Halloween/All Saints’ Day brought excitement and treats, along with the resultant much-anticipated sugar highs.

My Minnesota sister livened up early November by delivering her first baby, and later in the month I went to visit her and her tiny boy. Just after I returned, we celebrated Thanksgiving in Port Huron with our families, and enjoyed time with relatives we hadn’t seen in a while.

December, as usual, promises to be a hectic and celebration-filled month, and we are excited for Christmas at home with kids who are the perfect age to get the most out of the magical holiday.

Camilla turned eight in October. She is a bookworm like her mother (this year’s favorites: the Babymouse series and everything by Beverly Cleary) but also loves to do crafts and write stories. As a girl with three younger brothers would, she has an impressive ability to concentrate amid chaos. She is sensitive and kind, likes puns and dark chocolate, and looks forward to playdates with friends and her weekly ballet class.

Blaise will be six in January. When he’s not at school, he spends his time directing his younger brothers’ games, and they’re happy to follow his lead. He’s fascinated by mechanics and numbers, and often asks us to give him a “word problem:” math to solve on the go. He’s very physical, with a quick temper, but mostly agreeable and generous, and happiest when he’s playing outside.

Linus and Ambrose turned three in May. Three-year-olds are such a mixture of adorable and volatile, and our twins are no exception. It’s a good thing we’ve survived two previous three-year-olds so we know this stage ends! But in the meantime, we’re alternately sighing with frustration and laughing ‘til we ache.

Linus is our organizer and idea guy. He is serious and determined (some people might say “stubborn”). His straight face makes it even funnier when he breaks out one of the jokes he cracks regularly. (You’re probably shocked to learn that many of them involve potty humor.) Linus works hard, but only on things he wants to do, and enjoys eating, roaring like a dinosaur, and running everywhere, including indoors.

Ambrose is our mellow, more cuddly twin, but that doesn’t mean he can’t commit to a tantrum, because he certainly can and does. He amuses us with his malapropisms and spoonerisms (he recently asked me to read him a “Tog and Froad” book) but has broken ground as the first of our four kids to be willing to tell his name to adults who ask. He also enjoys eating, making long lines of toy cars and trains, and asking constantly to take trips to the library. (Linus, wherever we take him, always asks immediately to go home.)

I hope that your home has been filled with joy this year, and I pray that 2015 brings whatever you are wishing for. From all of us: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

As I age, I become more aware of my privilege. This is a mixed bag. On the one hand, I think it helps me be more self-aware and happier (because my life is indeed hugely blessed). On the other hand, I have guilt.

Getting ready for the Edel Gathering this past weekend, I was excited. I love to travel, I can always use some extra time to myself, I was rooming with somedearfriends, and meeting new people invigorates me. But I also felt a little guilty because I could go - by which I mean I have the financial and childcare means for things like this - and because I didn't think I needed it as much as some other people might. I started blogging in 2004, had my first in-person meeting with an online friend in 2005, met my best friend through the Internet in 2008, went to my first bloggy gathering in 2010, and have since then ramped it up to the point where my husband is starting to be a little bit like, "How many girls' weekends does one really need in a year, hmm?"

(Although he was very supportive of my going to Edel. I guess he must have sensed what I really needed.)

I don't feel isolated in my daily life. I - like many of us, I think - have an ongoing quest to find more simpatico local friends, but my online community has been a source of love and support for me for years, including helping me get through four hospitalizations of children since 2009. I have people whom I can and do call and/or text daily. I'm lucky; I have a huge amount of privilege in this area. So going into this past weekend, I was thinking that maybe I was being greedy, that I should have left the opportunities for the people who need them more than I do.

And yet. And yet. When Hallie stood up and passed on the words God had given her for us: "It is good that you are here," my heart squeezed. I blinked hard and was glad I'd worn waterproof mascara.

This is what I heard: it is good that you are here.

I am not underwater the way I was a few years ago, but I am still susceptible to the same lies that have always been easiest for me to believe. Everyone around you is managing; what's wrong with you? Look at how poorly you are coping. This is a life full of failure.

I have learned to argue with those voices, and there are people in my life who are always ready to help me shout them down, but they are not silent. Never quite completely silent. I guess that's the way the battle of life on earth goes.

It was good that I was there this weekend, and the biggest reason was not what I expected. Yes, I loved seeing/meeting old friends and making new ones. I enjoyed being able to eat meals in peace, and go to the bathroom unaccompanied, and spend a leiurely hour on hair and makeup. I laughed and danced and sang karaoke and drank one too many margaritas that the bartender had promised were weak. (Perhaps he and I have different definitions of that word?)

But most importantly, I got spiritual nurturing that I didn't even know I needed. That is why it was good that I was there: I'd been bopping along, managing pretty well, feeling grateful that I sleep through the night now and no one has thrown up on me in months and isn't life EASY? And GRAND? And making myself oblivious to the fact that underneath, I still waver.

I need to be told that what I do matters, that I am not alone, that God loves me, that I am called to grow in love and become the best version of my unique self. I know this intellectually - I've certainly spent enough time writing it down over the years - but that doesn't negate my need to hear it, to affirm it, to recommit myself to it.

And since I came home, the goodness of the weekend has been rippling through my life, morphing itself to fit into every corner.

It is good that you are here: I am the right wife for this husband, the right mother for these children, the right person to catechize fifth graders (a daunting job I've recently signed on for) and to support a person I love through a crisis and to live in this little house with this rowdy family. I belong here, this is my life, I'm right for it.

It is good that you are here: there are a hundred little joys in this life, and I am blessed to be the one who holds these little people and comforts them through their trials and witnesses their joys, blessed in my marriage and my friends and my family and in so many ways. This is a good life.

It is good that you are here: as tedious and tiny as it feels sometimes, this life is my vocation, exactly as it is. And things that make me feel sometimes like an outsider: not being a homeschooler, not having a baby or being pregnant; or (in alternate circumstances) having four (so many!) children and being one of those crazy religious people... well, those are the things that make me me and my life mine. I get to love those things, love being here, without apology or self-doubt.

Today I don't get to dress up or dance or drink margaritas (well, maybe that last one after the kids are in bed) but I get to love. I get to be exactly where I should be (It is good that you are here) doing exactly what I am supposed to do, and that is how I become each day a little happier and (hopefully) a little holier.

I recognize my privilege: it was a privilege that I could even consider attending the Edel Gathering, and certainly a privilege that I got to enjoy it as much as I did. But in the end, it turns out it's a privilege that I deserve, because everyone does. I pray everyone gets her Edel - whatever that looks like in her life - because we all deserve to know: it's good that we're here. It's good. We're good.

(And if you don't know that yet, or believe it, you're on my heart and prayers in a special way today.)

Thank you, Hallie and Jen and Edel. Thank you for giving me exactly what I needed.

Friday, June 06, 2014

It kinda freaked me out when I realized it means she's halfway through elementary school, but when I mentioned that at the dinner table she didn't know what I was talking about.

"What's elementary school, Mom?"

She goes to a K-8 school, so of course she doesn't have an idea of the distinction between elementary and middle schools, but I am sure that when she starts sixth grade it will feel huge to me. And she's halfway there from the start of kindergarten.

Our kids are seven, five, and three (and three) and I'm aware these days of a constant wish to freeze time. Bedtime stalling and tantrums over dropped popsicles notwithstanding, life with little kids is hilarious and busy in a way that makes my heart squeeze with the goodness of the moments.

Seven and a half years into this parenting gig, I shouldn't be but still am continually surprised by the paradox of living with and caring for people who are so much a part of me that I can't see how I'd manage to breathe if I no longer had them, but who are also so very much themselves not me. I'm responsible for them, but I don't - can't - determine them, and my pride in them ends up being not recognition of my own achievements but an astonished acknowledgement of who they are. That they, themselves, are IT. I am just a lucky recipient.

Camilla's second grade teacher wrote a certificate to recognize each child for a virtue exhibited during the year, and hers was meekness, defined as "serenity of spirit while considering the needs of others." Along with loving that definition of meekness (I feel like the standard accepted definition is much weaker), I also laughed because... well, she definitely didn't learn that virtue by MY example. Serenity of spirit! Ha!

But there's the beauty of it: that Camilla is mine, heart of my heart, and yet distinctly other than I am, so that even at seven she has virtues that I at thirty-one have not yet learned. And simultaneously she is exactly me: she curls in the big chair and reads a Ramona book in a day, and I get an instant sense memory of spending so much of my childhood just that way.

I am grateful for what Camilla's childhood has been thus far, especially because I recognize how little of the goodness I can take credit for. We have a school we adore and she is secure and happy there. It's been a beautiful year for her, full of friendships and fun and the reading and writing she loves. (She actually hopped with excitement when she told me they were going to begin writing stories in class. That's my girl!) Second grade has also meant first confession and communion, and the joy of seeing our girl hit those milestones... honestly indescribable. Even as I love having little kids I'm getting glimpses of the good parts of having big kids and it makes it hard to be upset about the passage of time.

Blaise will be in kindergarten this fall, and now that Camilla's half done with elementary school (even if that means nothing to her) I feel more keenly aware of the sensation that I'm sending a ball rolling down a hill, that I'll be struggling hereafter to catch him for a moment before he's off again, tumbling toward graduation at a pace far faster than seems appropriate for someone who was a nursling two blinks of the eye ago.

But he came out of kindergarten testing (fairly intensive, as our private school can choose not to accept children it thinks aren't ready) with a grin and request for "more kindergarten testing, Mom!" and every time we're at the school he talks about how excited he is to go there. He turned five in January and he's ready for this step, and so I will have to be ready too.

For now, though, between June 4th and the first day of school on August 26th, I have a moment.

I can pretend that this is our life forever: tricycles and scooters and sidewalk chalk, the swingset, windows open and all the sounds of imagination drifting through, dinner outside, trips to the park in the evening, holding them on my lap during prayers and smelling the summer on them, reading the Narnia chronicles at bedtime (an extra chapter okay because they can sleep in tomorrow). Lazy pace, sticky dirty happy children, a chance to pause and breathe and enjoy the fact that they're kids, just for now, just mine.

Monday, March 03, 2014

I tried to do one of these posts a couple years ago, but abandoned it when I had written down 15 unique tasks in the first 40 minutes and realized it would either need to be too general (and thus boring) or tediously specific (and thus exhausting to read). Life with a four-year-old, a two-year-old, and two babies was just too much life for this format.

But now I can manage it, so here you go! This is from Tuesday, February 25th.

(ETA: And now that I've written it... oh my word this is long. WAY too long. But I've been writing it for ages and I don't want to edit. I won't blame you at all if you skim, or skip reading entirely.)

5:20am - I awake to Ambrose... what? Is he sitting on me, or just next to me? He's grumpy, that's for sure. But he's yelling for Bryan, and it's Bryan who is heroically handling nighttime wakeups to protect my sleep so I don't get as many headaches. They quickly disappear to the kids' bedroom and I'm back to sleep. Sweet sleep.

7:27am- Oh, here's Linus. I squint at the clock and see that Bryan and Camilla have now left the house; on Tuesdays he drops her at school and goes straight to the office. Blaise, our morning-person child, will be amusing himself (which he is luckily excellent at) but the twins come straight to me when they wake up. Linus demands to "yie on yo ahm, Mama!" I let him put his head there as it lets me continue half-sleeping for a while. But then...

7:45am- here's Ambrose, and he wants to "cuddeh you!" on my other arm, and I cannot sleep that way. I roll away from Linus for a while, and then back to him when Ambrose decides to go join Blaise. Linus also leaves after a bit, but returns, and he and Ambrose are in and out of the bed for the next hour while I bury my head under the pillow and pretend to sleep.

9:08am- I finally give up; it's silly to stay in bed pretending to sleep when I could get up and have some caffeine instead. I switch on the light, reach for my glasses, take my temperature quickly while turning my phone off airplane mode, and head for the bathroom.

9:12am- I'm sitting in a daze on the toilet (Blaise didn't get his morning-person genes from me) when I hear yelling. "Linus is bleeding, Mama!" Dang it, I hate an adrenaline rush before I've even had a chance to brush my teeth. Oh, but phew, the trauma is minor: it's a tiny cheek scrape. He's fine.

9:14am- Back to the bathroom. Teeth brushing, contact inserting, etc are slowed considerably by the fact that I'm concurrently checking email and iMessage on my phone. This kind of "multitasking" would surely draw criticism from any efficiency expert who observed me, but those killjoys are not invited. My line to the outside world keeps me sane.

9:33am- I head to the kitchen to get my breakfast. Notice on the way that, as expected, the Cheerios Bryan left out for them are now strewn all over the living room floor. (They can't be trusted in the kitchen so he has to leave sippy cups of juice and baggies of cereal in the living room for them. This has predictably messy results, but the extra sleep is worth it.)

In the kitchen, I fill the electric kettle with water for my tea and stick two slices of bread in the toaster oven. Take some big glugs from my water cup and down my allergy pill, which I have to take now so I can take my headache meds later, as the two drugs don't behave well together. (Not a big deal. Weird tingly hand thing. I don't know.)

9:39am- My small informants tell me that Ambrose was the culprit in the Cheerios-dumping incident, so I hand him the dustbuster and order him to make reparations. Cue outrage. How could I forget that vacuuming up cereal is an enormous privilege when one's sibling is given the chance to do it? (Although not, of course, when one is ordered to do it oneself.) I hand over the other dustbuster and order the three boys to take turns.

I stay safely on my side of the kitchen gate and deal with random kitchen mess (there is always random kitchen mess) until my breakfast is ready.

9:48am- I sit down to my hot cup of tea and buttered toast, one of my day's small luxuries. I'm on the home stretch of a book I've been reading for a week, and I'm very excited to start my next one, so I am hoping I get a happy quiet fifteen minutes to enjoy here.

9:50am- They've spotted my toast, and cannot believe I have cruelly failed to make none for them. Shoot. Nothing for it but to give in to stick another couple pieces of bread in the toaster oven. Ambrose and Linus hang on the gate and whine, but I can't let them in until their food is ready due to the high probability that they will fill the time with mischief making.

9:55am- The boys' toast is ready. The twins fall on it hungrily. Blaise whines at me that he didn't WANT toast. (Odd, since he very much did five minutes ago.) I remind him of the ever-present option of leaving the kitchen and refraining from whining at his mother. Amazingly, he takes it.

9:59am- WHY, when there are six chairs at the table, do they always decide that a particular one is the Chosen Chair and start pushing each other off it?

My toast is now cold.

10:00am- I inform Ambrose that he will have to leave the table if he can't stop spitting. Linus solves the problem by deciding he is done eating and removing himself. Temptation removed, Ambrose tucks in.

So do I. A quiet few minutes! At least my tea is still hot.

10:06am- Blaise and Linus are fighting over the dustbuster again. Apparently the battery has died on the older one, and they both want to use the newer one. I take it away (my standard solution to bickering over objects), deciding to deal with the rest of the cereal mess later. Ambrose complains about his diaper, which reminds me that I really should get the boys dressed.

10:07am- They follow me to the basement and start playing in the playroom, which is just across the hall from the laundry room, so I decide to take advantage of the lull to do some laundry. I put a load in the washer and sort the clean load that's in the dryer, then look for clothes for the boys to wear today.

10:18am- Pause to help Ambrose put on a random shoe, too small for Blaise but far too large for him, that he's found somewhere. It doesn't have a mate, but he doesn't care, and wants to wear it over his blanket sleeper.

10:21am- Head back upstairs, armed with outfits, but don't yell for the boys yet because nature is calling...

10:25am- ...and as usual when I forget to lock the door, someone barges right in. Linus this time. Luckily I'm done, and I grab him and head to the living room to change him and get him dressed.

10:32am- He's done. Blaise and Ambrose are upstairs now, but they're all playing happily, and I'm now in a fascinating conversation with friends on iMessage about a whole mess of topics (including this study about acetaminophen and ADHD that Susie wrote a fantastic post about, and I'm proud that my voice is in one small part of that piece).

(Here's what they did while I chatted:)

10:51am- I head to the kitchen to start making lunch for the boys. Grilled cheese! Slice bread, grate cheese, stick sandwiches in Griddler. Unload the dishwasher while they cook. I take the first of my two headache-prevention pills right now, turning the bottle upside down so I'll know I've already taken one when I go to take another one later.

11:14am- Lunch is ready, and I round up the troops to eat, thinking as I do so about how nice it is that they play together now. It wasn't so many months ago that the the little ones were all over me all day long, but the trio of boys is pretty independent now, and I am so much freer - and saner - because of it.

Being a bit choking-paranoid, I sit down with them while they eat. But I'm not so paranoid that I'll pass up the chance to read a little while I sit.

11:34am- They've eaten some sandwich and Ambrose and Linus have escaped from the kitchen, but I realize that Ambrose is rather... aromatic. I chase him down and change his diaper, then get him dressed.

11:44am- On my way back from dealing with the diaper, I glance into the kitchen to find Blaise standing at the kitchen table wearing his gleeful-puppetmaster face and holding a box of Lucky Charms. Where did he even get those? His brothers wait nearby for spoils. Hmm. Maybe they're still hungry.

11:48am- Okay, second lunch. Fruit. Bagels. I sit back down with my book for Choking Watch (very important, Choking Watch) and mentally thank heaven for Costco.

11:52am- Linus is screaming "my bagel!" What? Is his bagel in danger? Oh, yes, that's right, Blaise loves to tease his brothers. He's not actually touching Linus's food, therefore staying within the letter of the law, but I know by his devious grin that he's well aware he's outside the spirit of it. I order him back to his chair, threatening banishment.

12:02am- Yogurt. I mean really. It's actually pretty hilarious how much they can eat.

12:18pm- While tidying the mess from the lunches, I notice that Blaise is still wearing his pajamas, so I send him to the living room to get dressed. Amazingly, he does it quickly and efficiently, without waving his bare bottom in anyone's face. (When I say amazingly, I mean: this is honestly rare.)

12:22pm- We have a full afternoon and are on a time crunch, so I have to get the twins down for their nap asap. I herd them to the bedroom (I would just carry them, but that evokes cries of "I WALK!" and induces them to run back to the living room in order to get a chance to do it, so...) and shut the gate and the door behind us. (Yes, we really need a gate AND a door in their room. Trust me.)

I remind Blaise that it's his job to clean up the living room while I put the twins down. He's usually pretty good about this, except when he's tired. We'll see.

In the bedroom, I lie down to play iPad games with one twin on either side of me. If they are ready to nap, this works brilliantly. If not, they bounce up to play, yell, throw things, climb on me, try to climb the walls, etc. (This is why there is no furniture in this room, only mattresses on the floor.)

Today is a bouncing climbing day.

1:06pm- I desperately need a bathroom break, so I leave the door open and the gate shut and pop out to do this. Check on Blaise's progress.

So... that's going well, then.

1:23pm- I take a picture of Linus (left), Ambrose (right), and me, the last one I do before I forget to keep documenting my Life, Day in the. Don't they look happy? Why are they so happy? They should be sleeping!

1:34pm- I abandon ship, because it's far too late for the twins to take a nap before we have to leave anyway, but I still need them out of my hair for a bit, so I leave the iPad in the bedroom with them and shut the gate. (This is where having twins comes in handy, because they will play happily together for quite a while.)

I head to the kitchen to grab some food.

1:44pm- Blaise wakes up as I walk back through the living room and follows me to my bedroom. It's the coziest, warmest room in the house, and I'll camp out with my book on the floor as I eat my snack. (Not on the bed, because I hate crumbs in the bed.) He cuddles up next to me and I enjoy his warm quiet presence. I read the last 50 pages of my book (which was, frankly, not that great, although I suppose it was horizon-broadening) and start my next one which, based on the number of times I laugh aloud in the first 20 pages, promises to be much more enjoyable.

2:08pm- Ambrose and Linus are yelling that the iPad battery has died, and it's been more than twenty minutes, so I go to let them out. Blaise is fully awake now, and the three of them run off to find some mischief as I put my hair up on hot rollers. I add a little makeup then dig in my dresser for a presentable outfit, because we've got to head out presently.

2:28pm- I stick my feet in some shoes and run to the garage to get the car warming- even though my kids have compressible coats they can wear safely in their car seats, they will still yell at me about the cold unless I preheat the car. This infernal endless winter, I tell you. And it's warm today! 22 degrees or something!

2:31pm- Rollers out! Hairspray sprayed! Basic jewelry on! I find coats and shoes for the boys and discover they've hit me with my favorite pre-leaving-the-house challenge: the double poopy diapers! But I'm on fire, so I handle it and we're still out the door on time.

2:48pm- Someone always yells about his car seat buckles. But it's a different kid every time. Do they coordinate this on a secret schedule?

2:52pm- I hook up my headset and call Lauren on the drive. We'll only get a short chat today, but no day is complete without checking in with her.

3:06pm- Pickup at Camilla's school is from 3:00-3:15, and I like arriving right in the middle - neither too late nor too early. (They don't call her name to come outside until I get here.) She skips out, bright in her pink coat like every day, and I let her in the car and then drive to the other side of the parking lot to meet our friends.

3:14pm- On Tuesdays Blaise and Camilla have Atrium, the Montessori-style Catechesis of the Good Shepherd at our parish, which is just down the road from Camilla's school. Her (school but not Atrium) classmate's younger brother who is Blaise's best friend is in Blaise's Atrium class, and to simplify things for his mother we give him a lift to Atrium on Tuesdays. She pulls into the parking lot, he hops in, I check seatbelts and we're off.

3:25pm- Ambrose and Linus, predictably, are soundly asleep in their car seats. I ask the big kids if I can just drop them at Atrium - it's a tiny building full of familiar faces and they know right where to go - and they're amenable, as usual, so I drop them and I'm off.

I need to go to the grocery store, and I debate heading straight there, but I suspect my twins might sleep for a while. Better to head home, which is almost on the way, and where I can have conveniences.

3:41pm- In my garage, with my book. I guess I'll just... stay here and read. Hey, it's nice and quiet. I run inside for a quick bathroom break and to refill my water cup, but otherwise I'm just sitting here in the car. This book is very good. My life is leisurely. Although my butt is kind of sore.

4:32pm- Calculations tell me the snoozers should be waking soon, so I put the car in gear and drive the 5 minutes to the grocery store. Sure enough, Ambrose is awake by the time we get there. I unbuckle him and jiggle Linus to awaken him. I hold their hands tightly and we head in. I probably can't hear them fussing about the cold wind. (I feel you, buddies.)

4:42pm- Hello Meijer! We're ready to shop! My list is fortunately not long, and the catalyst for the trip is our need for a new kitchen garbage can, so we head that way first. Linus is clingy and won't let me put him down, and Ambrose wants me to hold his hand. As you might imagine, I'm having trouble pushing the cart while sustaining this. But here, look! A display of garden ornaments. We admire ladybugs and butterflies and soon everyone is cheered and ready to shop. (Although they still won't put their hoods down. The endless winter is getting to all of us.)

We grab a trash can that looks pretty good, and then hit the grocery side of the store for some miscellaneous staples plus ingredients (if you can call them that) for tonight's dinner, my go-to when I'm at the grocery store at 5pm and don't have other dinner plans: a rotisserie chicken, romaine lettuce, croutons, and a hunk of Parmesan. Chicken Caesar salads it is!

5:24pm- We're in line, and we check out. I like to make conversation if the people around me are pleasant, which luckily they are today. The cashier asks me if my twins are always this quiet. I look down at them, confused. Um...?

It's funny to suddenly come up against those perception gaps and realize that your children are totally different people to you than they are to those who don't know them like their own hearts.

5:34pm- My twins want to ride the mechanized pony, and I have a couple pennies, so I indulge them. Linus, who's in a braver phase currently, is up first. He wants me to hold him while the horse moves, but he stays on for almost the full minute. Then it's Ambrose's turn. "Mama, you hold on-oo me!" I insert the penny, my arms tightly around him, but the pony's jerking is still too much for him, so he's done.

5:38pm- And just in time, since my phone is ringing. It's Bryan - he's picked up Milla and Blaise from Atrium and is now home, wondering where we are. I assure him we'll be home shortly.

We troop out to the car - owwwww that wind is bitter - and I deposit L & A in the van and close the doors so they stay warm while I open the back and load the groceries. Shut the hatch, run the cart to the corral, then back to chase them down (they are, predictably, crawling all over the car) and buckle them into their seats.

5:48pm- I collapse in the driver's seat and we're on our way. Somehow I'm both freezing from exposure and sweaty from exertion. Winter is... special.

I call Bryan on the way and tell him that if he'll come out and grab the boys, I'll bring in the necessary groceries and get started on dinner right away.

5:52pm- We pull into the garage. I collect bags from the back, Bryan collects kiddos. I go to the kitchen and start organizing. He comes in and carves up the chicken while I ready the other food. Lettuce, chicken, grated Parmesan, croutons, dressing, and a big bowl of grapes on the side. Everyone will eat some combination of these foods, thank goodness.

6:02pm- We pour cups of milk and call the kids to the table. One parent on each end, two kiddos on each side. Although I'm often kind of burned out by now, I love this part of the day, talking and laughing with my favorite people.

Bryan and I have lots to do, disbursing various food items, dropping the hammer on grape throwers (there are, at different moments, three. I won't reveal their identities) and trying to keep track of who is eating and who might need a spoonful of peanut butter before bed. (This is our family's preferred solution to the problem of dinner-haters going to bed hungry.) It's a busy half hour, but it's fun.

6:34pm- Bryan suggests I take some writing time while he handles the post-dinner craziness, so I run downstairs to collect small pajamas. I save myself some time later by grabbing Camilla's uniform pieces now too. Switch a load of laundry while I'm down there, then back upstairs with clean pjs, which I toss on the couch.

6:45pm- I duck into our bedroom and shut the door (which has a magical twin-invasion-prevention doorknob cover) behind me. Brush my teeth (I'm sure I've forgotten to mention several teeth brushing incidences today. I'm obsessive about brushing right after I eat, not because I'm conscientious but because I hate the way my mouth tastes with food/beverage particles. I also carry xylitol gum with me everywhere I can't brush.). Spend a few minutes tidying our bedroom, because I can't sit down to write until it's tidy.

6:54pm- Blaise is yelling from the other bathroom, which is right outside our bedroom door. Quick break to wipe him, since Bryan is still dealing with the neverending dinner.

7:01pm- Grab my laptop and crash on the bed to write. None of the drafts in my folder are inspiring me, so I start a freewriting exercise which turns into this post.

Our bedroom still has twinkle lights that I left up after Christmas to give me a bright cozy spot through the dark winter. I love it in here, and I'm savoring the warm bed and my big cup of water and my fingers pounding the keys. I can hear Bryan dealing with the miscellany of the post-dinner pre-bed routine and I'm quietly grateful for his competence (as I am a zillion times a day).

7:43pm- Camilla and Blaise burst in to tell me there's a surprise for me out in the living room. The "surprise" is always the same, but I follow them out and express the appropriate amount of (not-fake) glee at the living room, which they've obviously worked hard to tidy. It looks great.

7:46pm- Family prayer time. We say the Magnificat, personal intercessions, the Our Father, and the prayer to St. Michael. There's almost no way to keep the twins from running in circles while we pray, but the older two are reasonably quiet and reverent for their age. (So, you know, 70% of the time for Milla, 50% for Blaise.)

8:06pm- My fingers are wiggling to get back to my piece and finish a paragraph that has grabbed me. Bryan agrees to give me a few more minutes. He reads to the kids on the couch while I escape back to the bedroom for the finishing touches on my post.

8:26pm- I take over with the big kids, and the twins are Bryan's for now. I set a timer for ten minutes so C & B won't dawdle while brushing their teeth and gathering their pillows and stuffed animals into our bed. I put them to bed every night in our bed while Bryan puts the twins down in the room all four kids share, and then we transfer the big kids to their own beds later. It works.

8:37pm- We're settled in the bed, Camilla and Blaise with me between them, for one of my favorite parts of the day. They each choose a game for me to play on the iPad while they watch (I try to keep an eye on the clock and do no more than 5-10 minutes per game, depending on what it is), and then I choose one. We chat during this time, making jokes and rehashing our day. Then it's cuddle time, and I do a hug-kiss routine with each kid, and say "special prayers" (an evening blessing I made up) for them.

9:24pm- Bryan is in the bedroom with the twins now, but I can hear that they're still full of beans. (They're at that awful phase where they either skip their nap, or take one but then stay up very late.) I know Bry has work to do, so I stick my head in and offer to take over with the maniacs. He escapes, and I'm in for the duration.

9:32pm- Except, wait, I forgot that I meant to do a sinus rinse - hoping to relieve some of the pressure in my head- before I came in. Quick SOS text to Bryan, who takes back over while I run and do that.

Salt water. Goop. Etc. Gross.

9:41pm- Back in. This time, really for the duration.

I catch up on blogs, text with friends, fire mental expletives at Candy Crush level 500 (I've been stuck for weeks) and kill time 21st-century style while my goobers roll around, chat with each other, and refuse to go to sleep. I won't let them get up and play, but while I can make them lie down I can't make them actually sleep, so I'm stuck here. I console myself with the fact that, hey, at least Bryan is working, and I've survived his work hours in worse ways.

11:03pm- They're finally both asleep. Fiiiiiiiinally. I venture out of their room, hoping that Bryan (who is not an evening person like I am) has not dozed off over his laptop. Hooray! He's awake. I ask if he needs to go to bed right now, but he swears he's good, so we sit down to watch a Parks & Rec episode together before heading to bed.

11:34pm- Teeth, contacts, facewashing, etc. I'm still reading The Rosie Project, which is excellent, and I'm happy to beat Bryan to bed, because it means I can read in bed with the lights on for a few minutes before he comes and needs to crash.

(But the reason I beat him to bed is because he moved Milla and Blaise over while I was in the bathroom, and now h's refilling humidifiers and checking locks and turning down the heat, so I feel a tiny bit guilty.)

11:48pm- Lights out. Cuddling. Bryan crashes in about two minutes, and thanks to the half a Unisom I took before we watched TV, I'm out pretty quickly too. Ahhhhh sleep.

Friday, February 28, 2014

It's been a long stressful week and I had to abort a migraine with my special migraine-killing drugs tonight, so no fancy words are coming out of this brain, but it occurred to me that it would be easy to share some photos. And also I haven't been blogging so long that if you haven't been catching photos on Twitter, you might have no idea what my kids look like now! Whoa!

One of the really fun things about this stage with our munchkins is that their activities offer lots of natural photo ops. Except for the one at Costco, where I did ask them to gather nicely around the shopping cart, none of these was posed.

They're not really supposed to get in our bed, but how could I scold when they're so happy? (Linus in blue)

The children are looking odd here, aren't they?

(Ha! But seriously, they worked together to make the snowman family and then demanded I photograph it. I certainly hope that creature in the back isn't supposed to be the mother.)

Family trips to Costco are a fun way to get out of the house (since the outdoors is off-limits due to frigidity). (l to r: Linus, Ambrose)

I just love this one because it's so cute and it would be perfect... and then there's the kid at the end picking his nose. Oh, Ambrose. So hilarious and ridiculous and adorable.

Thursday, February 27, 2014

Ages ago I promised my kind and hilarious friend Maureen that I would send her my basic bread recipe, and then I failed to do that. (Not because I'm too lazy to copy and paste, but because it's not actually written down anywhere.)

But THEN she suggested I post it here this week, and I'm thrilled for an excuse to phone in one of these posts, so here we go.

Oh, but first, a little back story.

My dad makes very good basic white sandwich bread. Excellent bread, really - soft and light, but still a little chewy. I swear, you haven't had toast until you've had toast made with this bread. When my siblings and I were in high school (I promise I am not making this up) our friends used to come over and ask for toast at 11pm or whenever, because toast made with my dad's bread is just that good.

He CLAIMS the recipe is from James Beard's bread cookbook, but I have used that recipe as written and I can attest that it does not result in bread like my father's. I determined there must be some x factors involved, so about a year and a half ago I resolved to figure it out. (Dad is eternally generous and would bring a batch of six loaves of bread for our freezer whenever he came down, but I figured it was time for us to become bread-self-sufficient. Self-bread-sufficient. Self-breadficient?)

I had him tell me exactly how he makes the bread. And then I tried doing it like that, and then I tried a bunch of variations, and eventually I devised a method that does not involve kneading by hand (which my dad does, but which I prefer not to do for a variety of reasons) and which is reasonably foolproof.

The original recipe is flour, water, salt, and yeast, which are the basic ingredients for your chewier breads, but softer breads are generally enriched, and this is one of the things that was bugging me about my dad's bread: how could it be so soft and not be enriched? But I eventually figured out that it IS enriched: he adds an extremely generous glop of oil to the bowl that holds the dough, and ends up kneading most of it in. So I made it easier on myself and just add the oil near the beginning now.

Anyway, here's the recipe. I am a little nervous about sharing it because I've only tested it myself, but I think it should work. I weigh the ingredients when I do the recipe, but I am sharing volume measurements here, because I know that is what most people do. If you want the weights, let me know!

(I know these are not quite the same proportions. It's okay! All measurements are general anyway. Feel free to wing it.)

1. Dump the water into the bowl of a stand mixer. Add yeast and sugar. Stir together and let sit about 5 minutes, until foamy.

2. Add (the low-end amount of) flour, the oil, and the salt. Using dough hook (on "Stir" speed), knead until dough forms a ball on hook and cleans sides of bowl, adding more flour if necessary. Once the dough balls up, it should not be sticky to the touch; if it is, add a little more flour. Err on the side of adding extra flour.

Once dough is smooth and uniform (this will take at least 5 minutes of kneading), transfer to oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap or clean cloth, and let dough rise until doubled, 60-90 minutes. (It might take longer if it's sitting in a cool place.) You'll know it's ready to be punched down when you can stick a fingertip into it and it doesn't bounce back at all.

Deflate the dough and let it rise until doubled again, which should take a little less time this round. Deflate and let it rest for 5 minutes before forming it into loaves. (Make sure you grease the bread pans really well. I use at least a couple teaspoons butter per pan.)

There are several methods for forming loaves, and I've been making bread for years and am still not particularly good at it, so I have no advice. But the Internet is your friend if you want tutorials!

Cover loaves in pans and let rise until the loaf is an inch or so above the edge of the pan. (This takes about 45 minutes, in my experience.)

Bake loaves at 350F, ~35 minutes for smaller loaves, ~45 minutes for larger ones, or until the loaf sounds hollow when you remove it from the pan and knock on the bottom. Take the loaves out of their pans, put them on a cooling rack, and brush the outsides with melted butter. (I use about 2 tablespoons per loaf - the crust stays much softer if you're generous with the butter here.) Try to wait as long as you can to cut into them, as they will keep baking for a while after they come out.

Oh, and ping me if you have any questions!

Notes:

I use all-purpose flour and canola oil. Bread flour would be fine, as would other types of oil, I'm sure. I doubt this recipe would work well with whole wheat flour.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

I took copious notes throughout my day yesterday and am working on putting together a day in the life post, but the reason it isn't ready is the same reason I almost didn't manage to write at all anything tonight: ohhhh my head hurts.

Do you get migraines? I can't say I recommend it. In fact I heartily disrecommend it.

I've always been headache prone due to jankity sinuses, but I would only get a couple killer headaches a year. It wasn't until last summer or early fall that I started having them regularly, two or even three a week. It correlated with weaning and cycle regulation after over seven continuous years of pregnancy and/or nursing, so I suspected a hormonal cause, but it's hard to nail that stuff down. And anyway there wasn't much to do about it except get pregnant again, which seemed kind of extreme as a headache remedy, so instead I started working with my doctor and it's been months of trying different meds and chasing down triggers and yadda yadda yadda.

(I also collected advice for a while, but I'm done with that stage now, although I thank you for your kind instincts. I'm still collected sympathy if you've got any extra.)

One tough thing for me about having chronic or recurring pain is that I tend to play Reverse Pain Olympics, so I'm always reminding myself how much worse other people have it. And then one day I can't stop crying and I feel like life is too big and hard and WHY? Why am I so overwhelmed when on paper my day to day life is so much easier than it was a year ago?

Then I remember: my head hurts all the time. That does tend to wear a person down.

So it's this constant balancing game trying to prevent the pain from starting in the first place (stress and exhaustion appear to be my migraine triggers, I discovered after a hardcore elimination diet, but my sinuses are a nasty wild card all their own), managing it when it inevitably shows up, and keeping all the necessary parts of my daily life happening through it. It's difficult.

And when my head doesn't hurt at the moment, I'm such a jerk, I can't remember why the headaches are a big deal. Why not simply rise above them and continue carrying out the tasks of my vocation with elegance? But then another one hits and it's like... OHHHHH YES THIS. Sorry, can't talk about living a meaningful balanced life just now because it appears someone managed to shove invisible ice picks in there above my eyebrows.

(I'm promise I'm only a jerk to myself. If YOU have headaches, I feel terrible for YOU, and cut YOU all kinds of slack.)

The headaches have kept me much quieter than usual online this winter, and I've been hibernating socially, which makes my extrovert self miserable. (Thank goodness for the phone chats and iMessage, or I'd be gibbering by now.)

Also, I know this is an unoriginal sentiment, but I'm so ready for this winter to be over so we can go outside and not have to literally hibernate any more.

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

When my sister Branwen and I each had one baby, we'd take them sometimes to daily Mass at a nearby chapel and see big families there, and these mothers of big families would smile at us and encourage us and tell us how much they missed the days with just one small baby.

And I totally get that now, because when I'm shepherding four small children through the grocery store parking lot trying to keep them from getting hit by rogue texting maniacs in SUVs, I think about how easy it was when I could grab my one baby from her car seat, balance her on my hip, and go.

Other than that, though, it turns out I don't miss the single-baby days. Sure, life was logistically simpler then, but I was so bored.

Once we get in the grocery store, I might have to remind the children not to grab things off the shelves, but I have four of them to talk to. We talk and joke together. They might argue once or twice, but they are kind to each other too, and they hold hands, and I get to enjoy their presence and their relationships with each other. Going to the grocery store with one baby was easier because I could just strap her on my chest and zip through my list. But these days it's an adventure and it turns out I like adventure.

We're in a sweet spot right now, parenting-wise. We don't have any babies, but all our children are too young for the tough problems of older childhood and adolescence (and we've been lucky that Camilla's school years have so far been free of serious issues). And life is full of all the little problems like biting and food-throwing and nighttime wake-ups and Cheerios all over the floor, and the fight against entropy is a constant uphill battle and Bryan and I fall into bed every night exhausted, but ohhhh we laugh so much. So so much.

I like adventure, but the small everyday kind, which is maybe why I've always been a voracious reader. (Hmm. Which is the chicken and which is the egg, there?) I read a book recently in which a character claimed a "big life" is fast-paced and full of big-ticket adventures, and in the weeks since I read it I've gotten continually more angry about that idea. I mean, even if we agreed that "big" is the right adjective for that kind of life, what makes a "good" life?

My life feels big when my twins play their game in which they turn my head to kiss me on the lips, one then the other, back and forth. My life feels big when I come across Camilla curled in her favorite chair, reading a book I loved as a child. When I'm in bedroom and I hear the big two bustling in the living room and Blaise yells, "Mama, don't come out!" and then a few minutes later he comes to get me and they jump and yell a gleeful "Surprise!" at me because they've cleaned up. (They do this regularly. I feign utter shock every time.) When all four children are playing together happily for an hour, making a "party" out of blankets and pillows and stuffed animals and books. When the simplest jokes make Linus or Ambrose scream with laughter, when I find them reading on the bed in a row, when they climb on my lap or need me for comfort and my family is just... my family. As it is every day. My life is big, and it is definitely good.

Life was a lot easier with just one baby, and quieter, but I used to watch the clock then. There's no time for that now and I love it. I love the pace of our life now, the fact that it doesn't quite fit in the allotted hours, that the meager half hour of calm that Bryan and I get each evening when the house is finally quiet and tidy feels so valuable because it is so rare. I know that this is our ordinary time, and I will miss it when it is gone.

Monday, February 24, 2014

I'm doing Conversion Diary's 7 Posts in 7 Days, which means I'll be scrambling for material (and, yes, phoning it in) this week. I also went to see a dear friend's newborn this morning, and I've got babies on the brain, so I figured, why not start the week by talking about them?

Polite people would never dream of asking, but I guess they might wonder: are there more Mosher babies coming down the pike?

The answer: no, not right now, for reasons. But also: someday, maybe.

It's such a complicated and personal question, isn't it? So many personal issues and so much discernment go into answering it. And I know there's privilege in my feeling like I *can* venture to answer it in certain ways. We're both open to the idea of more children, we could afford them, and it's likely we'd be able to conceive (although of course there are never any guarantees). Those are important things and I'm grateful. But on the other hand the prospect of adding to our family right now is daunting. We're not ready, and we think it's okay.

We live in a community where people have many children. I know that in the common perception WE have many children, but no. I'm talking MANY. Seven or ten children, very close together, and you've never seen anything like these parents. The spouses seem able to communicate by telepathy, and each of them is always carrying a small child around, and they're calm as anything. It blows my mind. I mean, I'm sure that at Mass (where we usually see them) they probably appear more collected than at 5:30pm on a random Tuesday, but still. The parents of the big families amaze me.

But with friends of mine who are my age and have a small handful of kids like I do, I discuss the idea that maybe everyone isn't called to have all those kids, that maybe we aren't. You should see the joy that some of these families have in their many children. It's beautiful: such a witness to God's goodness and to the inherent goodness of each new life. But at the thought of having a baby less than two years after a previous one, or of having another one annnnny time in the near future after having four in 4.5 years, I don't feel joyful. I feel like I want to cry, or maybe crawl in a hole and sleep for a year.

And maybe that's okay. Is it a weakness on my part? Perhaps, and I'm willing to own it. We all have weaknesses. But I feel like the gift God has given me, as I've struggled and loved my way through seven years of parenting so far, is the ability to let go of fear surrounding this issue. Could I mess it up? Theoretically. Do I trust him to help me avoid messing it up? Well... yes. I guess I do.

So here we are, marking time, and every month we pray and decide whether to mark time for another cycle. Sometimes a small person vomits at midnight or I wake up with the second migraine in a week and we just know, and sometimes the discussion is longer and deeper, but Bryan and I have remained on the same page so far. More kids? Maybe someday. For now? It's God's game as always, but we're voting no.

Doesn't mean I won't hold a friend's cuddly warm new baby every chance I get, though. I loved doing that today.

(I won't lie. I also kind of loved handing her back and coming home knowing I will get to sleep tonight.)

Monday, November 11, 2013

Linus has to go see the ENT doctor today so they can check the ear tubes he had placed in July. He also has an increasingly goopy-sounding cough, so later we're taking him to the regular pediatrician even though he seems otherwise fine.

At the breakfast table I asked Linus, with an "isn't this so exciting?" tone, if he wouldn't like to go to the doctor today? He nodded and chirped happily, "Yeah!" And then I looked over at Ambrose, who was scowling at me, and asked him if he wanted to go too.

His response was fierce. "No! I no wan' go doco, Mama." (I ought to get a picture of his scowl because it is hilarious, with full-on furrowed brow and dark eyes. All the funnier because he is generally a blithe child.)

So that worked out well: the doctor-liking twin gets two appointments in one day, while the doctor-hating twin has none. One of life's little coincidences, and it pleases me, because so often the coincidence is something like that they both happened to play with the same virus-covered toy at Atrium nursery two days ago so they are now both throwing up on the same night. All night.

(We have given up on Atrium nursery. It is not worth the pain.)

At Ambrose's and Linus's two-year well-child checkup I obtained from our pediatrician a referral to early intervention to have them assessed for their speech delay. That they had a delay was not in question; whether it was acute enough to need treatment was; I hoped the assessment would straighten that out for us. But in the end we never had them assessed because the EI people wanted to see if their tonsil/adenoid surgery would result in a sudden improvement in speech skills and it did, so the speech pathologist and I decided that we shouldn't waste her time assessing them.

(I was a little disappointed, because I was curious about the assessment process and the results. But of course I was more happy that our guys had made such progress.)

The early talking stage, although it can be frustrating, is one of my favorites because the cuteness quotient is just so high. For instance, my "doco"-hater climbed onto my lap a few minutes later and leaned his head against my chest. "I yike oo, Mama." Then he showed me his dimple and gave me an unsolicited kiss.

There are upsides and downsides to having twins, but one of my favorite upsides is when they egg each other on doing good things. "I yuv oo Mama!" one will say, and then the other yells "I yuv oo too!" and then it's a chorus of loud but adorable "I yuv Mama too!" The days when they both wailed inconsolably on my lap while I held them and rocked and cried right along with them are starting to fade.

A lot of people complain about age two, and they have a point. Two-year-olds can walk and talk and feed themselves and they look so sweet that you think they should be reasonable people. And then, surprise, they are in fact practically feral and definitely unfit for polite society and the dissonance can be frustrating. So I get why other parents dislike age two.

But I love it. Yes, it's often loud and messy at our house, but when things get outrageous we can sit down and amuse ourselves peacefully reading through a pile of books, which didn't work with two babies. Two-year-olds are (mostly) amenable to the games their older siblings invent. They do feed themselves, and I no longer have to carry them everywhere. They can follow instructions, and even do so at a rate that encourages me to keep trying. (~27%)

And honestly, who wouldn't want to have these guys fighting over which "yuvs" one more?